Dark Ice
by unleashed-demons
Summary: Jack Frost had thought that he had gotten away from the nightmares, but when he realizes he can only keep up hope and joy by secretly using self-mutilation, he is soon faced to look at his new reflection-a shadowy black figure-that he does not believe is himself. He is not fear. He is not a nightmare, so why has a fogged up reflection of Pitch come back to haunt him?
1. Control

Jack's POV

The moon had told me not to give up hope. The Guardians had told me not to give up hope. Jamie and the other kids had told me not to give up hope. I told myself that I would not give up hope. I told myself that I would believe in myself as long as they believed in me. I told myself that I would keep them believing in me forever, but even that is an awful long time. Forever is a long time.

My name is Jack Frost, and I am a Guardian. I have already found my center, but to keep up that center and to keep on letting myself know that I am still alive and can keep on spreading joy to kids, I have to control that by letting the blood come out of my own skin. Maybe having a magic staff is not all that helpful to me since I use it as a way to hurt myself, but it helps others, and I cannot let the Guardians take it away from me.

The moon tells me many things, but the one thing the moon did not tell me was to use the magic staff to inflict pain on myself, and I cannot even think of what the other guardians would say if they found out that I do so.

I keep picturing them. I keep having envisions in my mind of the guardians finding out, as well as the mixed memories of my childhood and home. I think too much. Sometimes I cannot even function properly without thinking something through first or even thinking at all. I always have to think.

The moon symbols to let me know that there is still hope. It lets me know that I am still alive, and that kids still believe in me, but sometimes it is not enough. Sometimes I need more than that, even if it means bringing a little pain onto myself, but there will always be pain that you cannot escape from. There will always be fear. Pitch told me that, and even though I heard from him so long ago, I know that he is right.

I turn on the sink and start to run the water, splashing some on my face to try and wake myself up. When I open my eyes back up, I stare closely into the mirror, a shadowy black figure's reflection looking back at me. It is a reflection that is not my own. I drop my magic staff onto the bathroom floor, my mind starting to whirl frantically.

"'Ay, mate, you gonna be outta there soon?" Bunnymund calls from outside the bathroom.

I feel frozen in spot, still staring at the shadowy black figure. I nod back slowly, suddenly realizing that Bunnymund cannot see me inside the bathroom so I raise my voice back at him and try to keep it calm. "You are a bunny, therefore you are like a pet. Use the bushes outside."

"Jack, I ain't a pet, 'aight? I jus' glad you ain't calling me a kangaroo no more, but jus' 'cause I'm a bunny ain't mean that I don't get the same privileges that you do! I gotta use the bathroom, 'aight?" Bunnymund yells back, but his voice starts to fade as I keep on staring at the reflection that isn't mine, my mind unable to function properly.

"Pitch?" I breathe out quietly, my eyes staring closely into the mirror, which soon fogs up and I am then left with my own fogged up reflection staring back at me.

I cannot function. I cannot think, yet I feel my mind starting to whirl. Pitch had left so long ago, so why had I just seen him staring back at me through the mirror? Am I my own nightmare? Am I starting to become Pitch?

But he is gone. My name is Jack Frost, and I am a guardian. I will tell myself that many times until I believe it. I do believe it, so why did I see Pitch's reflection? I spread joy. I am not fear. I am not a nightmare. I am only fearful of myself. I am only a nightmare to myself. I only inflict pain on myself in order to reassure myself that I am still alive, that I am still there, and that I am still believed in by myself and others.

My name is Jack Frost, and I am a Guardian. I know that. I know who I am, so why did Pitch come back? Is this another sign that has been left untold?

My name is Jack Frost, and I am a Guardian.

My name is Jack Frost, and I am a Guardian.

My name is Jack Frost, and I am a Guardian, but now I know that I am something else too.


	2. Listen

**A/N: Each chapter will swap over from Jack's POV to Pitch's POV, so it'll become less confusing as I add more chapters. Pitch's POV's will be slightly shorter than Jack's. It's also formatted a little differently. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and follows so far! I will try to update this at least every 2 - 3 days once I have an idea of where I'm going with the story because as of right now it's just a vague plot line.  
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Pitch's POV

You say you love to spread joy to kids, Jack, but you cannot even keep that up without fearing yourself.

You are your own fear.

You are your own nightmare.

Surprisingly, none of this has been my work.

You have already found your center, so what more could you possibly want?

But it is not enough, is it?

It is never enough.

They were just starting to accept you as a Guardian, and now you secretly self-mutilate yourself in order to keep up with everything and don't tell them that you do?

The red crimson blood looks decent against your pale skin, Jack.

And I thought you were just starting to believe in yourself as much as the kids believe in you.

Have my words finally caught onto you?

I do wish we could meet up again, but I feel no need to give you anymore fear than you are already giving yourself.

Maybe I do, but as of now I am just watching over you.

I told you there would always be fear.

Even if I'm not around, there is always fear.

I told you there would always be nightmares, so why didn't you listen to me, Jack?

You should have listened to me.

You are defenseless.

You are weak.

You save kids but you cannot even save yourself.

Selfish.

Ah, but you probably don't think you are.

You are selfish.

Every Guardian has their flaws, but no one knows what yours are yet.

You despise yourself, don't you?

You despise yourself as much as I do.

Tell me, why must you punish yourself?

It is not me who you are seeing in the mirror, Jack.

It is you.

You may not be fear or even a nightmare to kids, but you are that to yourself.

You are your own fear.

You are your own nightmare .

Oh, believe me. I never tell a lie.

Don't you think it would have been better if I had kept that magic staff of yours broken?

You use it to help others, yes, but what about yourself?

You are slowly losing your center.

You may know what it is, but it is not enough.

I thought you had found out who you were?

Oh, right. Being a Guardian is not always that easy.

You did not listen. You did not listen to me.

Do you know that every time the blood leaks from your pale skin I get a little bit of a thrill myself too?

But you do not even know that I am watching over you, do you?

Do you even see how defenseless you really are?

It is amusing to watch. It really is.

The Guardians would not like you keeping secrets from them.

They would not like their Guardian, Jack Frost, getting hurt without them knowing.

And it is not even me who is hurting you.

You are your own victim.

They would take that magic staff away from you if they found out that you use it as a way to inflict pain on yourself.

Naughty, Jack. Naughty.

Kids would not like what you are doing.

Kids would not like to see Jack Frost hurt.

Not at all.

But I do.

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**A/N: I wish I could come up with a witty A/N that would get people to review, but I don't have anything. Dang it.**


	3. Degrade

**A/N: Omg, I feel so antsy about updating, but here's the next chapter.**

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General POV

Jack Frost had thought things over, even if it wasn't his greatest decision. Flying didn't give him as much of a thrill as it had used to. His fear of himself had been getting a lot worse, and even now all he wanted to be was alone, perching himself on top of the rooftop as he looked up at the moon.

Before, he had never thought that he was anything. He had never really believed in himself. He had never found his center. He had never thought he was insane until now. He tried listening to the Guardians words, but somehow he still didn't feel as if he fit into their exterior.

He was lost.

He was back at the beginning again.

Jack Frost was lost and all he could do was talk to the moon, absentmindedly waving his magic staff around as he started pacing back and forth as his sad eyes looked up at it.

He had lost hope.

He felt as if Pitch's words were starting to catch onto him.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep it all in. He was lying to them. He had thought that he was a Guardian, but how could he be a Guardian when he couldn't even be one to himself?

He had to degrade himself from the others in order to keep things up.

He had been harsh on the Sandman before, telling him to stay with the others as he went out on a flight by himself. He needed time to himself to think, but even he was starting to get afraid of his own mind lately. He wasn't used to the racing thoughts.

_You said there would be no more fear, but there is always going to be fear, Jack. _

He clawed at his head in frustration. "Stop it."

But he couldn't. He could hear the voice softly whispering to him, a voice that he knew wasn't his own, but he was thinking the exact same words as he had been told. He didn't know how much longer he could hold this in. Could he really keep up all the snowball fights and fun?

_You should've listened to me, but no one listens to the Boogeyman. Are you starting to listen to me now, Jack? _

He had stabbed the magic staff against his arm a couple times, and his own voice wouldn't stop comparing him to Pitch. Was it even his own voice? Or was it Pitch's? He hadn't seen him in so long.

Jack tried to keep his voice calm. "Pitch, you're afraid to come out."

_I'm not afraid, but you are. You are your own fear. The contrast of those crimson red lines running across your arm look ever so decent against your pale skin. _

He gritted his teeth at the voice, the pain from the stab hitting him almost immediately. "Stop it."

_You know you can never be a real Guardian when you can't even be one to yourself. You do know that, don't you? I thought so. _

All Jack really wanted was to be alone. But he couldn't even be alone without scaring himself. He was a victim of his own mind. Pitch wasn't here anymore. It was only him. He was delusional.

_Listen to me, Jack. You are a nightmare of your own reality. You've tried to subside the fear but all it does is keep on coming back. You're lying to the Guardians and you can't even be strong enough without hurting yourself. I know your fear. _

He couldn't ignore the voice. He had recognized it before, but he just wasn't sure where it was coming from. He stabbed the magic staff against his skin again.

"I have found my center already," he spoke quietly, feeling his throat clench as his words escalated into more of a yell. "Shouldn't that be enough? I thought the nightmares were over. I thought the fear was over, but I now fear myself and the nightmares are becoming a reality. Do I even still have the strength to stay a Guardian? I mean, every Guardian must have some type of flaw, right? I just…" He cut off his own words for a moment, still standing up on the rooftop, getting a closer look at the moon. "I just don't know how I can hold this all in. Am I just as bad as Pitch? I need another sign. Please."

There was no answer. He knew he would get nothing. He would have to go back soon or he knew the Guardians would start to get worried about him. He pulled his sleeve back up, swinging the magic staff around a few times before flying back to the Guardians.


	4. Fear

**A/N: Gah. This chapter is even shorter now, but you know what? That is okay, because now I have a decent plot line coming up and they will start to grow longer as I update! Y'know what they say: A picture is worth a thousand words. Or something. Or the other way around or whatever. Something like that. I dunno.**

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Jack's POV

I had never been afraid to tell the Guardians anything, but I have to hold this in. I try to keep my eyes open as I start to fly back to them, but it's hard to do so while feeling the immense pain of the cuts. My flights were usually carefree, thrilling, and relaxing, but right now all I can think about is Pitch and the immense pain I feel under my sleeve. It hurts.

_I know your fear, Jack._

He's real, I can admit that, but I haven't seen him since so long ago. He's more real than I am. I am my own nightmare. He is his own nightmare. That is what scares me the most, knowing that I can compare him to myself. He also knows my fear.

Myself.

And I will never be afraid to say that even I believe in Pitch because he is real. Others believe in me, and I am slowly starting to not believe in myself, so does that make me real if others believe in me and I don't? I cannot answer that right now. I will have to hold onto that one. I take in a deep sigh, almost unaware of my surroundings as the pain builds up deeper and deeper.

_I am not afraid of you. Are you aware that I have been watching over you this whole time, cackling as you stab that staff into your arm? I knew things would become too much for you. I should've kept it broken. It should've stayed broken, because all you can seem to do is get yourself into trouble. Do you like trouble, Jack? You were never a real Guardian.  
_

This feeling of lost hope is painful. I try to subside the voice from my head, but it's barricaded inside of me. I cannot even think back to the times where I thought snowball fights and fun would be enough, because it is never enough. I have lost my center again. I have lost the person who was once the center of fun, but I am still fun to the others, just not to myself.

_Do you still believe you are a Guardian when you cannot even be one to yourself?_

I hear the words over and over again. I know Pitch is right. I cannot be a Guardian when I cannot even be one to myself. I hate to admit that he is right.

I try to speed up a little bit to keep myself awake, but while I'm flying I don't find it carefree, thrilling, or even relaxing when all I can feel is the soaked blood underneath my sleeve. I'll have to bandage that up when I get back. I'm already feeling lightheaded as I fly a little faster, and then I blink a few times to try and readjust myself, but when I look ahead all I can see is a shadowy dark figure and moments later I start to feel myself falling down until I'm surrounded by blackness.


	5. Shattered

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the reviews/follows/favorites so far! I promise you guys I'm not stalling with my chapters anymore because right now I actually have a plot! Yay! So thanks for my 16 reviewers so far! I will try to keep up with the updates every day because I feel like that gets me going.**

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General POV

There was no possible escape. That was obvious. He was already woken up. He was trapped. He was colder than he had ever really been. His face was even paler than before if that was possible. His breaths were starting to become unsteady. His wounds were still opened up and bleeding, gashing out while the blood that had stuck onto the staff was already dried up.

The Boogeyman let out a loud cackle, his dark shadowy figure circling around him in amusement as he continued to teasingly play with the boy's staff, jogging it up and down. His upper lip curved slightly. He ran his broad fingers along the edge of the boy's staff, the blood drying up from it as he scratched at a piece with his sharp nails. Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe going back to sleep would help. He hadn't gotten much sleep in a while, blinking tiredly to try to keep himself awake. He slowly started closing his eyes, but was soon slapped harshly across the face by a dark shadowy figure. That woke him up.

Pitch.

The first thing the boy noticed was that his staff was gone, glaring at the Boogeyman when he had realized he was holding it. The second thing he had noticed was that he couldn't escape. His head moved down ever so slightly then, trying to gnaw off the chains with his teeth but then felt the choking from the other chain that was attached tightly and securely around his neck. He was finally still. He was motionless. It was just him and the Boogeyman. He had finally decided to show his face. He felt like it had been so long ago.

There were continuous cackles. Lots of them. The boy couldn't help but flinch, moving around and making more small shifts, but that even hurt from the chains that kept on pulling at him. He finally stopped moving again. He had soon given up the tugging and shifting, keeping his eyes open at the Boogeyman. He could feel himself fading in and out of consciousness, but the several slaps against his face had managed to keep him awake.

This wasn't a nightmare. It was worse. He didn't want to think of what Pitch would do to him if he weren't awake, so he had managed to stay awake from the several slaps he had gotten across his face. That seemed to do it. Right now he was at the point of being defenseless.

The boy bit his lip harshly back at him, feeling his chapped lips soon turning into a whiter color. "Let me go. Now."

He had felt more pain before than a small slap. He was used to it, overly thinking if he even was fearful about the situation or not. His bleeding wounds were starting to hit him again, the immense pain quickly coming back. He glanced at his staff and then focused back onto the Boogeyman, soft blue eyes looking up at dark and shady ones.

"Let's play..." He mused, cocking his eyebrows up at him, grinning rather widely. "A game."

Pitch's POV

He's soundless as I watch him sleep.

He looks almost peaceful with his eyes closed. He's lying in a cold pit of darkness, trapped in solitude as he tries to subside the cackles of my voice in his sleep, but he doesn't know that they are not in his head. He's shaking and shifting around. He doesn't know that he will soon wake up from a nightmare into a nightmare. I had never left him. I was always there. His staff is placed beside him, covered in blood from the stabs he had given himself. I thought some color was missing from him, and I was right. Crimson red looks decent against his pale skin. He needs to add more of it.

His crushed fingers are shaking, but scarcely moving because of the chains that he is tied up in. I cannot even think that this is the boy who was once the center of fun. He was once the boy who spread joy. He was once the boy who had believed in himself. He was once the boy who had found his center. It is hard to believe this is the boy. But it is. He's Jack Frost. He looks so…shattered. He looks weak. Defenseless. And fearful. _Lovely._ Finally, my nightmares are starting to descend as the dreams are slowly starting to become a reality. _Perfect. _The Boogeyman always wins.

"Are you aware, Jack Frost," I tell him softly, my cackles starting to escalate as I watch him slowly beginning to open his eyes, blue eyes that show fear. "That you cannot kill fear?"

He's waking himself up into a new nightmare.

His calm voice that retorts back is utterly irritating. "So I've heard."

He's awake_._

I give him a sly smile, watching the boy glance down at his wrists, blinking tiredly as he tries to shake the chains off of him. _Not going to work, Jack._ He keeps on moving. He keeps on trying. He always keeps on trying. All he continues to do is struggle. It's amusing to watch him struggle. His knees start shaking then, which I had also tied up in chains, and all I can do is continue to cackle as I pick up the staff from the ground. I swing it around a few times. He narrows his eyes at me, angry and fearful blue ones looking back at my own shady ones.

He grits his teeth, rather quick with his words. "Give. It. Back."

He does not even realize the fact that he is still bleeding.

I swing it around a couple more times, teasing him slightly. "_This_?" I sneer, glancing down at the staff and then back up at him. "You want _this_? Why, _this_ has done nothing but trouble, hasn't it? But I don't think I'll break it again. I think I'll use it for my own personal amusement. Let's play...a game. You like games, don't you?"

I keep my head up closer to his, waiting for a response. He had said he hadn't been afraid of me before, but the look in his eyes show me otherwise. Everyone is afraid of the Boogeyman, even Jack Frost is, and now I have got him where I want him to be. I will make him even more afraid than he already is. He will soon concede that he cannot kill fear. He will soon realize that he has never been a real Guardian. He will soon realize that we are both our own terrible nightmares.

He's blunt. "Fun games, Pitch. Now let me go."

I cackle at his demands. He's trying so hard not to look fearful, but he is. I had missed playing games with him, and since he looks so shattered, so weak, so defenseless, and so fearful, I want to play another game. I've come back to play another game with him, and this time he cannot escape. The Guardians are not here to protect him anymore. I have him all to myself. I had missed our games.

"Do you even remember what fun once was, Jack?" I ask him softly, my mouth moving closer up to his ear as I speak, my hot breath breathing into it. "I don't believe so. Well, neither do I. We are much alike, don't you agree? But as of now, I am quite enjoying myself seeing you so...shattered. Is being a Guardian not enough? What more could you possibly want?"

"We are nothing alike." He growls, shaking his wrists at me some more.

Another cackle escapes from my mouth. He doesn't realize it yet, but we are very much alike, I just need him to concede that. I need him to play another game with me, because I know he likes games. As do I. He will listen to me. He had never listened to the Boogeyman before, but I will make sure he listens to me now. He will.

"The Boogeyman has come back to play."


	6. Numb

Jack's POV

"Tell me," the Boogeyman hisses, his eyes a rather dark and coffee-flavored color, gazing right into mine. "Did you ever think you were actually a real Guardian?"

His words echo in the back of my mind. I know the answer, but I'm wordless. My throat clenches up. I give him back a sneering look, but when the throbbing of the cuts start hitting me again, all I'm ready for right now is to be torn apart. I'm defenseless against him. I can't call the Guardians to come save me. I don't want them to come save me. I'm supposed to be a Guardian. I'm supposed to be my own Guardian, and Pitch's right, but it's not like I'm ever going to admit that to him. I keep silent for a moment. It irritates him, and I'm okay with that.

I'm supposed to work my way out of these situations, but I don't know if I want to. I continue to stare into his dark and coffee-flavored eyes, finally able to see him clearly since so long ago. At least, it had felt like it was so long ago. Now we're back to playing games again. It probably amuses him. In a fearful way, it amuses me, too.

I eventually stop shifting around and stop trying to gnaw off the chains, because it's useless. I really can't believe that he might actually have a chance of winning this time. I stop trying. Slowly, the throbbing of the cuts start to die down and all I begin to feel is the numbness. I narrow my eyes at him slightly, not moving. My eyes focus back onto my staff as I keep my teeth gritted together, listening to him and watching him closely before I manage to speak.

"I know you're tired of hiding under kid's beds, Pitch," I answer, ignoring the repeated question. "Wanted to change your routine up a bit and come back after me again, did ya? You wanna play another game?"

Fear. I'm not feeling any of it. Maybe I have forgotten what it had felt like. Should I even be afraid? I feel slightly amused by this whole situation, because I know that by letting him hurt me would be a benefit for the both of us. Right now I just feel numb as I look up at him in defeat. He had been watching over me ever since the last time I had seen him and I hadn't noticed. I hadn't noticed he was always there all along, watching me everywhere. He knows more than the Guardians do, but I shrug off the thoughts. I was supposed to meet up with them hours ago.

"Exactly." He nods in agreement, grinning as he taps at my staff with his broad fingers. "But not quite. You see, you must think that this is all a game to you, don't you? Do you think you'll always get out of this somehow, that you'll always win by playing pathetic games? I know your fear, Jack. I know you're not fearful of me, but you're fearful of yourself. Am I right? I thought so. You can't always feel wanted or keep things up by fun and games, which is why you have to degrade yourself from the others in order to keep up with them. I can help you with that. You want to feel pain?"

I like this different game he has in mind. I decide not to snap back at him this time, finally nodding back wordlessly as I start to wonder what he's thinking. I shiver. He can hurt me, that's obvious, but he doesn't know how much I actually want this hurt. He doesn't know how much I actually want to feel this pain. It wouldn't just be a victory type of feeling for him, but I know that I'll also feel satisfied if he gives me more pain than I had already given myself. We'll both win in some way.

This is what I need, and I'm already starting to feel helpless. It will be okay if the Guardians don't know about this. I don't want them to help me. I'm not exactly sure if I'm ever going to escape, but I realize that I'm already in defeat by his repeated phrasing of words that actually do have some kind of an affect on me. Everything he's said so far is true. He knows me better than the Guardians and even myself.

He cackles softly. "While everyone else starts believing in you, you're slowly starting to not believe in yourself. I thought you finally found your center, didn't you?"

I'm still wordless after he speaks, but more aggravated by his stalling. I probably want this hurt more than he does, but our wants of hurting me are probably equal. His shadow circles around me, banging my staff loudly against the ground several times. He breathes into my face, his own hovering briefly above mine, his back arching over as he still tightly clutches my staff in his hand. He twirls it around a few times before he eventually brings it up to my face. I cringe. He pulls it back, whacking it harshly against my cheek. I flinch, my eyes still closed.

"Keep your eyes open, Frosty. Your nightmare are just beginning. Don't think that you're going to wake up." He snarls, pulling my staff away from my face again. He trails his nails up and down my cheek, feeling them soon clawing deeply into my skin.

I wince, glaring at him. "Don't call me that."

Another cackle escapes from him as he slides his nails slowly off my cheek, sending a cold shiver down my spine. "Listen to me, Frosty," he growls. "You only answer to me when I ask you a question. Got it?"

I nod slowly. I'm wordless again afterwords. He whacks me another time, this time harsher. My flinches are starting to become more apparent to him. Just a few minutes ago I had tried to tell myself that I wasn't fearful of him, but I think I finally have a better meaning of what fear actually is, and that's what I'm feeling right now. I like this new feeling.

"Got it?" He growls again, breathing out several loud sneers.

I give him another nod, sputtering out in agreement, "Got it."

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**A/N: I had never really thought of how I would be able to pull off a masochistic Jack Frost, but I hope I somewhat managed to. It's different, and since this is my first _Rise of the Guardians_ story, I enjoy writing this new appeal to him. **

**Thanks for all the reviews so far and for reading, guys!**


	7. Defeat

General POV

His frosty, moonlight blue eyes were the biggest things that lit the darkness that was cascaded around them. Calling him Frosty may have been a better name for him, especially since he was already starting to lose who he once thought he was: Jack Frost. That was what the moon had told him his name was, right? Things were different now. That name was tucked inside the back of his mind. His dream was over. His nightmares were over, too, for he wasn't in them but in reality instead.

He was holding in his fear, denying it. His throat was still clenched up. He was emotionally and physically shattered. He was unbelieved in by himself. Pitch had him in defeat and he was believing every single word he had told him. He didn't want to go back to the Guardians when he couldn't even be one to himself. They had it wrong this whole time. He had it wrong this whole time. He had finally told himself that he wasn't even a real Guardian to begin with, was he?

It didn't take very long for the numbness to fade away. He wasn't feeling happy anymore or even numb. The only games Pitch seemed to want to play involved hurting him, and the only games the boy wanted to play involved hurting himself, too. He was in defeat, but not quite, for he was rather amused by the pain he had been getting from the Boogeyman. They were both amused. He had winced and cringed a couple times, but who wouldn't? He hadn't even let a single tear run down his face though. He wasn't going to cry in front of the Boogeyman. He didn't need to cry in front of the Boogeyman. He wasn't going to.

The Boogeyman had managed to add more and more color to the boy. There would soon be more crimson red than there would be of blue. His face wasn't as pale as it used to be. He had been holding in his pain, cringing again as he suddenly felt the Boogeyman sticking his broad fingers inside his gushing wounds with his free hand, the other still clutching tightly onto the staff. He took out his broad fingers quickly, the crimson red blood attached to them, leaking down slowly. His broad fingers made its way up to the boy's cheek, swirling the crimson red blood around it.

"Are you afraid?" he whispered into the boy's ear, smirking as one eyebrow cocked up slightly.

His dark, glaring eyes that shot at the boy sent shivers down his spine, but he wasn't wordless. He wasn't afraid either. He wanted this pain as much as the Boogeyman had wanted to give it to him. He was already unstable. He was already weak. He was fearfully amused by Pitch. He couldn't quite grasp what it was, but there was something about him that amused him. He told him the truth. He wasn't trying to retreat from the constant whacks he had gotten against his face. He continued to let himself get hurt, the immense pain hitting him every single time he did.

He shook his head, quick to answer. "Never afraid."

He could tell he was making the Boogeyman aggravated, but he wasn't going to admit to him that easily. Was he afraid? He had been feeling more than just that, he'd admit. He hadn't retreated from any kind of pain the Boogeyman had given to him. It wasn't more than he had wanted. It was enough to make him feel something, and he wasn't afraid for more pain that he knew would come. He knew this would be an endless and painful situation for him, but he wasn't going to try to get out of it.

"There's always something to be afraid of, Jack." He sneered.

"Yeah, you're right, but I'm not afraid of _you_." He told him back, grinning slightly. "And I see you finally got my name right."

He whacked him against the cheek again, another cringe as well as a small sound escaping from the boy. He was starting to become restless, fading more and more into unconsciousness but trying to stay awake. He felt faint. He was dizzy, feeling his head spin around as he tried to keep himself focused on what was happening to him. His breaths were starting to get heavier, becoming irregular as he was feeling the chain tightening harsher around him.

"You don't follow the rules very well." He hissed, whacking him harder another time, the bruises on the boy's face becoming more apparent now. "Only speak when I ask you a question." He reminded him in a bitter tone, drawing out, "Why not?"

"Because you're doing me a favor."

"I don't see how I could possibly..." He pursed his lips at him, moving his head closer up to his. "Be doing you a favor."

The boy turned his eyes over to face him, biting his lip back at him in annoyance from the closeness, their faces almost touching. "Because I like this game."

"The Guardians wouldn't like what I'm doing to you, would they?"

His throat was clenching tighter, and he wasn't sure if it was from the chain that was pulling around the boy's neck or if it was from the Boogeyman's words. He knew that the Guardians were obviously worried about him, but he couldn't think about them at this very moment, and he also didn't want them to save him and find him so shattered and bruised up. He didn't want them to know that he had indirectly asked for this.

He shrugged off the thoughts. "I wouldn't know. I'm not a Guardian."

"But you're Jack Frost. Of course you're a Guardian, aren't you?"

"I don't know who Jack Frost is anymore." He sighed miserably to himself. "How can I be one when I can't even be one to myself?"

"Exactly."

The Boogeyman's words had finally caught onto the boy.


	8. Predictable

**A/N: It helps: Listening to the****_ Rise of the Guardians_**** soundtrack when writing. That gets me going. I suggest you guys do the same, because it really is a wonderful soundtrack, and I don't listen to soundtracks very often. ;44;**

**I also apologize for not updating yesterday, but I'm going to try and not abandon this story. All I can ever write is angst, but for some reason I put it as angst and hurt/comfort, so we'll see where the comfort ends up coming from. I have no idea how I will manage to put that into this story. :D  
**

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General POV

_F._

He looked down at the now engraved letter that had been carved into his skin, his face an even whiter shade than his natural skin tone was. He wasn't feeling numb anymore. That feeling had only lasted for more than a second. His pale skin wasn't showing anymore, though, for it was covered up by the several bruises that were slashed across his now reddened face. He was definitely shattered and hurt. That was obvious. The Boogeyman was still having his own little amusement to himself, still giving the boy countless whacks until he had managed to draw out the crimson red blood from his skin. The crimson red blood was still leaking out from the boy's arm, patting onto the cold ground as it swarmed around it from underneath him.

He glanced away from his bleeding arm, pleading eyes looking up at the Boogeyman's. "S-stop."

It had finally been enough for the boy, but it wasn't enough for the Boogeyman.

_E._

Another letter was engraved next to the _f_, a deeper cut than the previous one had been before. He didn't care at all if he would pass out in moments, because the way the chains had been attached to him were choking him tremendously. His pleads weren't enough for the Boogeyman to listen to him and and want to stop. He didn't want to stop. It just made him want to give him even more pain to the boy. The boy's staff wasn't broken, but that's how it looked as of now. It was a mess. It wasn't a shade of brown anymore. Instead, it had been soaked in crimson red blood.

The Boogeyman was the only one who wasn't wearing any color. His broad nails kept trailing themselves down the boy's face, and he hadn't let go of the staff even once. The pain the Boogeyman was giving the boy had been more than he had wanted it to be. He didn't believe in himself, but he could feel all the pain that was given to him and he couldn't help but let out those winces and cringes. He was still alive, and he was aware of that.

_A._

The third letter was drawn into his skin. It was an even deeper cut, if that was possible. He wished he were in a nightmare_,_ but he knew he wasn't. He was aware of that, even though he was blinking even more now from the weakness feeling that was increasing inside of him. He wouldn't close his eyes, though, for the fear of being whacked even harder by the Boogeyman. He had felt like it was enough right now. He had felt like the pain had been enough, but the shadowy dark figure that was hovering over him didn't think so. _  
_

The boy looked down at his arm again, focusing on him closely as best as he could. The letters were becoming fuzzier and fuzzier to him each time, but he had managed to see what they had read out so far. The Boogeyman gave the boy no response from his pleadings, except for the few cackles that had escaped out of his mouth.

"I know your fears, Jack," the Boogeyman whispers softly. "Join me, and I'll make you feel like you belong. After all, what goes together better than-"

"Cold and dark?" he finished off for him, shrugging but still taking his words into consideration. He swallowed, doing his best to make sure his words didn't sputter out. "Yeah, I know, Pitch. You're so predictable."

_R._

It was the last slash that the Boogeyman had made. He whipped the staff away from him, his dark and coffee-flavored eyes gazing into the boy's frosty and moonlight blue ones. He hadn't disregarded his offer, but inside the Boogeyman's head he knew that he wasn't going to kill the boy off completely from the world. He still wanted him here. He still needed him here._  
_

"Jack," he spoke calmly, whipping the staff back up to him. "Join me."

He glanced down at his bleeding arm, and then back up at the Boogeyman. His eyes were barely open, fluttering tiredly back at him. His head was painfully throbbing, swallowing hard another time as he stared at him. He just wanted to pass out and dream. He could feel the chains becoming tighter, still motionless. He didn't respond to the Boogeyman's words, but kept his gaze on his. The Boogeyman kept the staff up to his face, still clutching it tightly but not giving it another whack against the boy.

He still didn't answer, but a weak nod soon came out from him in response. That was enough for the Boogeyman.


	9. Frustration

**A/N: I was trying to keep up my persistence of updating every day, but that persistence decreased pretty fast. Ack. I had all this inspiration before and now it's just...writer's block! But, I will still keep on updating even if it seems like I go on hiatus every now and then. Your reviews make me want to update more, so thank you guys for that!** **I'm sorry if this chapter feels like somewhat of a teaser, but I'll try to work on the next one to make sure it's not. Thanks!**

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Jack's POV

If I had told myself that I wasn't afraid, why had I felt myself weakly nod back to his offer? Why can I still feel myself shaking? I was wincing at his words, as well as at the pain. I'm still wincing at his words, and I'm still feeling the pain. His voice kept raising an octave every time he spoke, and every time he spoke I could feel the throbbing of my head getting louder. We're both in silence now, gazing at each other. I've agreed to stay with him. His lips are curling slightly more upwards as he tilts his head at me with a grin, his smile growing as he looks at me.

"Good." He says quietly, breathing over my neck. "I'll be your master, Jack. I'll make you feel believed in, not like those pathetic little Guardians who make you feel so useless. If they had made you feel believed in, why are you turning into what you are now? I like this different side of you. I like the different side of Jack Frost, and I'll show you that the world you live in isn't really a dream. The world's never really a dream, Jack. The dreams are only ever inside your head."

He's telling me the things I already know. Why is he telling me all the things I already know? All these words he had been saying to me were already and always packed up way in the back of my mind and they just never hit me until now. I can't trust him, so why am I nodding to everything he says? I'm not giving up. At least, I don't feel like I'm giving up yet, but doesn't every Guardian need a break? Does this even count as a break? Doesn't every Guardian feel hopeless at some point? Am I just not as committed to being a Guardian as the others are? My throat clenches at his words. I'm becoming less motionless and more shaken up. My hands are shaking violently at him, not caring about the pain from the chains that are pulling at me.

I can feel my frustration building up, trying not to snap back. "They didn't make me feel useless, Pitch. They did make me feel believed in for a little while, I guess, but you're right..." I spit back, clenching my fists but sighing afterwords when I finally give in to him. "It's not enough. The world's never a dream, which is why we have Guardians to make us keep on believing. Yeah, I'm a Guardian, but I'm not always gonna be able to help myself as well as others. I just need to feel a little bit of pain, and I know you're willing to hurt me. You already have, and I believe everything you say, but don't ever talk about the Guardians to me like that. I won't ever believe what you say about them to me, because...well, they're the closest thing I have to home."

I knew I would end up getting whacked in the face for that, and I did. It hurt more than the usual whacks he had given me, and maybe it's because before I had looked so shaken up at him. He barely listens to me as much as I listen to him, but I know he won't ever listen to me because he's Pitch. Sometimes I wonder if the Boogeyman ever had a home. Sometimes I wonder if he's really shattered up inside like the way I am, but his facial features don't show it. Maybe all he really is is just fear. Maybe he doesn't have another side like I do. Maybe all I really am is just fear to myself, but I know there's a lot more to myself than that, and I can't keep on comparing myself to the Boogeyman no matter how badly I want him to keep on hurting me.

I then think of the moon as I feel the stinging of the cuts again. The moon had told me my name was Jack Frost, but had the moon told the Boogeyman that his name was Pitch and that he had to be this evil monster that was fear towards kids and even myself? Why would the moon want to create fear if he didn't have to? I shrug, but I don't shrug the thoughts off. I keep them there, tucked inside of me as I stare at the Boogeyman. His eyes are dark and coffee-flavored, and there's nothing that could possibly be hidden inside of him, but what if I'm wrong? What if the Boogeyman actually does have another side that isn't just fear? I shrug the thoughts off.


	10. Restless

**A/N: Hey, guys! So, uh. I have a really tough time writing so many characters together, which is why I'm trying to focus more on mainly just Jack and Pitch, but the other Guardians will come later in the story. The hardest part about writing for me is getting all the characters together at once and making sure all of them get enough dialogue, which is why I mostly stall my stories with narration. Eh. Blah, blah, blah. I'll work on that. :P Anyway, next chapter's up!**

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Jack's POV

Father? I had none. To describe Pitch as a father? God, no. North? Maybe. Enemy? I had one. Family? Yeah, I kind of had one. I used to have one. Do I still have one? Do the Guardians count as my family? Or did they used to count as my family? Have I already lost my family as well as the family that I have vague memories of? I mean, Pitch seems to really be enjoying my company, but that's only the enjoyment out of his own sick and sadistic mind. It doesn't count. He leaves me thinking too much in here.

When I was around North, I guess you could say he acted like a fatherly figure towards me. He was gentle, except when I played pranks and called Bunny names, of course. He had shown me my center, and now I was giving it all away to this: a pity excuse for torture from the Boogeyman. Right now it's starting to hit me just how much I miss the Guardians.

Tooth was like an older sister to me. Bunny was like my brother, you couldn't help but care for him but you still fought with him all the time. Sandy was like my other brother, and although he didn't really talk, I also cared for him. So what am I doing here with Pitch? Are the other Guardians even looking for me? I sigh silently. God, I have no idea. He's kept me in solitude, leaving myself still attached to chains and away from the other Guardians, and I asked for it. His home isn't homely at all. It's pitch black. It's a dark cave, just to the point where I'm at with my thoughts. There will only be nightmares tonight. No dreams.

"You do realize I should be obliging myself to scaring kids under their beds at night?" Pitch whispers through a hiss, using the blade to play with the strands of my hair.

My staff had already become worn out a while ago, so he had taken out a blade instead, which had hurt even immensely more than the staff had. I was already hurt, and now an even more hurt expression is starting to fall on my face. He continues to tease me with the blade and I can't help but look up at him, but I have a feeling he won't strike it through my hair. He doesn't. He just keeps playing with it, teasing me. If he stays here and hurts me instead of giving kids nightmares, then I'm okay with that.

I gulp. "So you're gonna resign to your job for the rest of the night to stay with me?" I laugh lightly, shaking as I talk but not as much since he had somewhat asked me a question. "Yeah, thought you'd might wanna change your routine up a little bit. It must be tiring scaring kids under their beds at night all the time."

"You have no idea," he growls back bitterly, looking down at me with a glare.

I was really shaken up before, but I'm starting to get used to this. He tells me what I want to hear, and sometimes I think that he actually does listen, even if it's through torture. I feel the cold blade against my neck again, feeling him run it up and down slowly. He slashes it lightly, but not enough to cut off my circulation, even though it feels like he had.

I start to feel myself grow restless, blinking tiredly up at him as I try to stay awake. I try to think of which one is worse: Staying awake in a nightmare or falling asleep into a nightmare? I shrug the thoughts off.

Pitch's POV

If he's awake, he has to have nightmares. If he's asleep, he has to have nightmares. He's still chained up, and I'm going to make it stay that way. He's obliged to my rules, but he had been with the Guardians for a while now, and I can't let him play any tricks on me. Not that he has played any tricks on me yet, but there are possibilities that he will. He looks so restless. He looks so tired, and I'd say it had been a while since he had gotten any real sleep for a long time by the bags that are shown under his eyes. But he's afraid to fall asleep, because he's afraid of the nightmares and of what will happen to him if he does eventually drift off.

"Pitch," he says quietly, yawning. "I'm done. I'm weak. I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"I don't want to get rid of you just yet," I chuckle back. "I'm still going to be keeping you here for my own personal amusement. Go to sleep now, Jack. We'll continue this in the morning and you'll wake back up into your own _beautiful_ nightmare again."

"But I don't want to sleep..." He drifts off, sighing miserably with another yawn. "I won't get out of the nightmares even if I do eventually fall asleep."

"I know you won't, Jack, but look how tired you are." I whisper back softly. "You need to sleep."

"But it's even worse in my sleep," he cries out. "I don't..." His eyes flutter back at mine, eventually shutting them closed.

When he eventually drifts off to sleep, I call for my minions that start swarming around him, starting to play with his fragile little mind. It seems different than the usual scaring kids under their beds, but I'm slowly getting used to this new routine.


	11. Lights Out

General POV

Jack blinks. Pitch's grin is widely spread across his face, but Jack doesn't have the energy to look up. Why bother? He'll only make a fool out of himself anyway. There's no way for him to get out of this. He can't call the Guardians. They wouldn't hear him. Pitch has beat him. He barely has any strength left in him. He's weak. He's broken. He's fragile. So fragile. He didn't want this to get as bad as it did. His nightmare wasn't too pretty, and he's back in it. He's aware of everything. Maybe too aware. He's not out of his nightmare. This is his own personal hell. He hates himself. It's hopeless. He put himself in this situation that he can't get out of. He almost wishes he could just disappear, but everybody believes in him. He just doesn't believe in himself. He hates what he's done. Everybody would hate to see Jack Frost hurt. Everybody except Pitch. He has to have Jack defeated. Pitch is in victory. He is in control. Jack feels like the cowardly one. He knows this isn't fair, but what is he supposed to do? Nobody knows what Pitch did to him.

Everything was so bright, so colorful, and so fun and filled with joy once. Where did it all go? He desperately wants that old part of himself back, but it's almost impossible for him to rememer himself again. Everybody loved /that/ Jack. It's so dark. It's pitch black. Literally. He can't escape from who he is. He can't get back to who he once was. He can't escape. Period. He isn't who he's supposed to be, so is there really any use in believing anymore? He's stuck. He had given into Pitch. It was too unbearable for him to even /try/ and go on. Why did he do that?! Stupid. He had never given into him before. Is it really worth living like this? There's no point.

All he ever really wanted to do was be free. He wanted a free soul, but his soul is so twisted now and even he doesn't know who he is anymore or what to do. He just wants to be happy in his own skin. He wants to vanish. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, but he knows that you don't always get what you want. It seems as if Pitch has won, but what good is it to keep him here? He would rather die than be left alone with no one by his side. But Pitch knew that dying would end the emotional wreck that the boy is in now, and he loves to see Jack Frost who used to be /oh so happy/ in pain. He hates happiness. He doesn't get it, because Pitch's never been happy. He is cruel. He doesn't always want to be The Boogeyman, but that's what he's lived up to. Why change? It's foo late to start over. He hates Jack. Is that not obvious enough?

Everything is a mess right now. Jack is a mess. He misses the Guardians. Oh, if only they knew the mess he was in. He hates the mistakes he's made. He wants things to not be so complicated, but who is he kidding? Things are /always/ going to be complicated now that he is a Guardian. He wants to live up to his name, but what the hell is he doing anymore? He doesn't know. He's so confused. He can't be liked by everybody. He can't be believed in by everybody. Is it too selfish to ask for help? Something?

The Guardians have no clue of what's happened to him. But as much as Pitch doesn't want to admit, he does believe in Jack Frost. After all, he wouldn't be able to see him otherwise, right? He just doesn't believe in him in the way that everybody else does.

Jack is so ashamed of his scars. He is filled with so much emotion. So much hurt. He hates himself for getting into this mess. He shouldn't have gone to his old ways with Pitch, but he did. Oh yes, he did.

He just wants to get back to the Guardians, but he's stuck here with The Boogeyman instead.

Lights out.

Pitch has won.

Somewhat.


End file.
